


Odi et Amo

by SambliongPalpatine



Category: Troy (2004)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-21 01:13:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21066314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SambliongPalpatine/pseuds/SambliongPalpatine
Summary: Things you said while holding my hand





	Odi et Amo

**Author's Note:**

> Well hello friends. The title of this work comes from one of Catulus’ poems; Odi et Amo “quare id faciam, fortasse requiris nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrutor.”
> 
> I found this fic in some hidden archive of my old laptop. I wrote it awhile ago when I was at hospital. 
> 
> I hope you like it and please do not hesitate on telling me if there are any mistakes.

Odi et Amo

Things you said while holding my hand. 

  1. You’ll be Alright. 

Achilles wakes up slowly; last night had been rough, what with the essay he had to finish all rushed because the teacher had decided to move the due date because she has a conference scheduled in America for the original date. 

He stretches and rubs his eyes sluggishly and gets up, dragging his feet toward the bathroom towash his face with cold water to help him wake up. It’s a luck that he’s already submitted his essay so he doesn’t have to run to class. 

He just has to go talk to Prof. Nestor about his dissertation because Zeus knows that Agamemnon isn’t the best to help with a thesis. Specially not to Achilles who spent most of the time challenging the man. 

Achilles didn’t want to do this. At all. 

He only wanted to fence, that’s his passion and maybe be a sculptor but alas, his father and grandfather before him had been Prime Minister so to England he went to follow their path into Politics.Now he fences and sculpts as extra-curricular activities. 

He is about to graduate and he is tempted to tell his father where to shove his degree and then piss off to Germany where, according to one of his friends, they have a nice fencing academy. 

But if he went along with that plan his father would erase him from the family tree and probably have an aneurism afterwards. And his mother... well he would rather not think about that. So obviously he won’t do any of it, doesn’t matter if his happiness is sacrificed. 

A text notification thankfully interrupts his musings (he always gets a bit upset when he thinks about his crushed dreams). 

Eudorus: Hey mate, fencing today or what?

  * Achilles: You don’t have to ask. I just have to talk real quick with Prof. Nestor and I’ll meet you there. 

Eudorus: Alright. Good luck!

He smiles and pockets his mobile back inside his jacket then he grabs his gym bag and satchel and leaves. 

-

Achilles is standing in the middle of the outdoors court, epée sheathed, chest heaving and sweat beads pooling on his collarbone, the sun beaming pleasantly down on him. He’s finished half a bottle of water already and he’s still hot. 

He has just finished a rough fencing practice with Eudorus, he can feel the tired pull of his muscles, which is highly satisfying. He stretches his arms above his head to try and pop his back and sighs. 

His friend is laying on the fluffy grass a few feet away from him; an arm slung over his eyes, his shirt is sticking to his body in some places from the water he poured over his head moments ago, hair plastered to his forehead. 

“You know mate, you could kick everyone’s ass if you went pro,” the man says, not looking at him. 

He chuckles andsmirks, he then looks behind his shoulder to wink at his friend. “Why would I want to go kick everyone elses ass when I can kick yours every other day?”

His friend grumbles something and flips him the bird. Achilles laughs openly and turns back to enjoying the sunbeams. 

At the other side of the field, where the archery team practices, a commotion breaks loose; someone’s tripped while firing an arrow, she was learning and lost her footing and the hold of the arrow so it went flying in the wrong direction. 

Achilles doesn’t move fast enough so said arrow pierces his leg a little above his ankle. Yes, it is as hurtful as the movies make it seem. 

He falls to the ground with a yelp, barely listening the angry ‘oi!’ that Eudorus lets out, not catching the rest of the sentence due to the pain and the wooden object protruding from his leg. He is sonewhat aware of the gasps and hushed voices around him but not really paying attention to what they are saying. 

He stares at the metal arrowhead for a moment, fascinated. Because there is a frigging arrow protruding out of his leg and there’s blood starting to pool on the grass underneath. A million possibilities go through his head before deciding that the best course of action is to pull it out. He can totally do it, how hard can it be, right?

So he takes a deep breath in preparation and is about to just grab the wooden body and do just that when a voice interrupts. 

“No, do not pull it out!” a voice admonishes. 

And of fucking course the day some idiot’s arrow injures him is the day he meets the love of his life. Because the person kneeling in front of him is the most beautiful man Achilles has ever seen. 

“Just let me tie a tourniquet to cut the blood-flow first. We don’t want you to lose any more blood, do we?” the man tries for humor but the tightness in his eyes betrays his apprehension.

He rummages through his bag, presumably looking for something inside, letting out a small ‘aha!’ as he brings an long, elastic something out. 

Then he turns back to him with a serious look. “I have to prop up your leg a little so I can pull your pants’ leg up and tie this around,” he stretches the band demonstratively and bites his lip. “I’m sorry if it hurts, I will try not to jostle it too much, alright?” he asks and stares at Achilles expectantly. 

Achilles’ breath catches embarrassingly as the man’s long fingers touch his skin, measuring up a few inches. 

“So,” the man clears his throat, “are you ready?”he asks softly. 

Achilles nods and carefully sits up, wincing a little but he swallows and nods again. 

The man surrounds that part of the leg and ties the band tightly, not enough to hurt further but enough to stop the bleeding. He gives it a testing tug to make sure the knot would hold and seems satisfied. 

The arrow is still sticking out of one of his legs, though. And it hurts so fucking much. 

The man looks apologetic now, his bitting his lower lip and oh, that’s conveniently so distracting. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to hurt you some more, though. I have to pull it off,” he says slowly. “The good thing is that an ambulance is on its way,” he tries for a smile that comes somewhat forced. 

It’s still the best smile Achilles has ever seen.He takes a deep breath when he sees the man wrapping a hand around the body of the arrow and swallows hard when the other turns to look at him with an expectant look. He doesn’t ask but Achilles doesn’t need him to, he understands what he means. 

He nods once, the other man nods as well before returning to the task, quite literally, af hand. Without warning, he pulls the arrow out and Achilles has to bite his cheek hard as to not scream, resulting in him tasting blood. He can’t prevent the pained moan from escaping. 

“Sh sh,” someone comforts him as a warm hand closes around his. “You’ll be alright now,” the voice whispers, gentle and calloused fingers caress his own. 

He opens his eyes, when did he even closed them?, and looks upon the man’s, his savior, warm and worried eyes. “It doesn’t feel alright,” he rasps out. Because it hurts like a bitch. 

The man pulls out some gauze to place over the wound, so it wouldn’t be left to the mercy of the elements. Achilles winces a little and the man squeezes his hand apologetically. Achilles likes the feel of it in his. 

As luck would have it, however, as he’s about to ask the man’s name, the sound of sirens interrupts him. A moment later two paramedics come carrying a stretcher to place him onto. 

The man smiles at him one last time before letting go of his hand. “They’ll take care of you,” he says before walking away. 

  1. I didn’t Catch Your Name Last Time. 

Achilles is ending his second month of rehab, courtesy of the arrow, and he is two seconds away from sending it all to hell. 

He hasn’t been able to walk or fence or fucking anything else and he’s just going crazy. And he hasn’t seen the man again, doesn’t even know his name. 

And by the gods, he just wants to run, hide and stay there. 

The physio is making him walk between two bars so he can grab at them and help himself not lose his balance. The man has been pushing him, making him walk faster and Achilles is a second away of committing murder in the first degree. 

He tied his hair in a ponytail because it was falling over his face a lot and it was becoming bothersome. Thus not helping to his already foul mood so before it had the chance to end with him yanking his hair out, the medic offered him a band to tie it with.

The beeper of the physio sounds and Achilles sighs internally in relief. 

“I’m sorry, Achilles but I am needed elsewhere for a quick consult,” the physio explains. “Someone will be here in case you need anything,” the man smiles and pats him on the back. “See you on thursday.”

He’s still halfway through the end and he is sure as hell not waiting for whomever it is coming to check on him. He doesn’t need help, he’s been doing this pretty well by himself. So he continues walking. 

But life is a bitch sometimes so of course he has to trip with his own damn feet. 

He would have totally smashed his face on the floor if it weren’t for the strong hands holding him up. 

“Careful, by Hera. You don’t want to come back because another injury, do you?”

And oh, but Achilles knows that voice. He looks up and sure enough, there the man is with worry anda small smile on his face. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks, harsher than intended. 

The other man is looking amused now, an eyebrow cocked. “I intern here, don’t you see?” he replies, looking down at himself. 

Achilles follows his eyes down, at the green scrubs he is wearing. He scoffs and clears his throat. “You are a nurse,” he makes the statement sound like a question. 

The other man shakes his head and laughs a little. “Not yet, no. I’ve still got a semester to go.”

“Makes sense, you knew what to do when...” he trails off and merely motions down to his foot. 

The other swallows and his expression morphs into one of concern.“Yeah, so... how is that going, by the way?” he points to the bandaged foot with his chin. 

Achilles shrugs and goes to push his hair back, only remembering that he has it tied and now probably looks stupid. “As well as an arrow-caused injury can go,” he snarks. 

His companioncoughs awkwardly and scratches the back of his neck. “I haven’t actually seen an injury like this, so-“ he shrugs helplessly. 

Achilles chuckles a little. “Yeah, I don’t imagine you’d see many people being shot at with arrows in a daily basis,” he says, smirkin. 

The man huffs a laugh. “No, actually not,” he grins. After a moment of just staring, he shakes his head a little and makes an encompassing gesture to the room. “You want to continue?” he asks. 

Achilles is ashamed to admit he doesn’t want to but he doesn’t want to voice it either, so he only shakes his head. 

The other man bites his lower lip in concentration and nods. “Come on, at least finish walking through this,” he prompts, offering his hands to Achilles. 

He eyes them for a moment before grabbing both his hands, allowing the man to help him walk. He is walking backwards, slowly,letting Achilles take his time. Contrary to the physio who was making him walk too fast for his recuperating foot. 

They walk in silence for a while; Achilles’ whole leg shakes every time he raises it and he tries to swallow his pained whines when his foot goes back down and he has to stop for a moment just to breathe. The other man doesn’t say anything, doesn’t pressure him, just lets him tighten the hold on his hands without complaint. 

“So,” the man breaks the silence (and for Zeus’ sake, Achilles wants,  needs,  the name of this man. Right now.) “I didn’t catch your name that last time,” he asks, casually. 

Achilles grins. “Funny, I was telling myself the same thing,” he winks at him, taking a deep breath when his foot twists a little wrong. “My name is Achilles,” he breathes out and then smiles shakily. “May I ask for yours in return?” he asks with such politeness that would make his mother proud. 

“Achilles,” the man tries the name, savoring the syllables and smiling wistfully. Then he realizes Achilles just asked him for his own name. “I’m Hector,” he answers.

They go to offer their hand to the other when they remember they are already holding them and burst into giggles as they shake their clasped hands in a ‘nice to officially meet you’ gesture. Damn, Achilles is so gone on this man already and he barely knows him. 

When he leaves the hospital that day he goes with a mixture of feelings; satisfaction at having seen the man, now Hector, again and finally knowing his name. Hope for. a new meeting and regret for not having asked for his number. 

  1. I don’t like this song. 

Achilles is standing outside the church, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit with a purple vest, a bowtie and shiny dressing shoes. His hair is combed back and his eyes have a smudge of black eyeliner which brings out the blue in them even more. 

Thing is though, he doesn’t like weddings. He has attended a total of four and they all were a fiasco. 

The first because his cousin’s fiancée apparently had been cheating on him with a girl she knew since high-school.That was a fun experience, if Achilles can say so.No one had known that she was bisexual and seeing the shocked faces of family members is always fun. 

The second and third times was a mixture of bad food, bad alcohol and respective single aunt and uncle hitting on him all night. Achilles is used to being hit on by men and women and it’s something that he doesn’t enjoy, particularly when the other person is intoxicated. 

The fourth time the crazy ex-husband arrived with a gun, the priest had a heart-attack and at the end the police came in and arrested the gunman and the bride as well. 

So yeah, he hates weddings. 

But Brisis is getting married and she is the only ex with whom Achilles has a good relationship so... here he is. Taking a deep breath he walks in and finds a place in the middle row. 

He doesn’t know many people: one or two of the bride’s friends and none of the groom’s, he doesn’t even know said man. He thinks he spots the trojan Prime Minister Priam and one of his sons somewhere at his leff. He forgot Brisis was related to the political family. 

Achilles is just sitting there, trying to swallow the discomfort away, when a beautiful brunette, with a perfectly styled platted braid and bright eyeswearing a green dress that looks perfect on her andwears a small, friendly smile, sits next to him. 

“Hey,” she greets, a pretty accent on her voice. “Bride or groom?” she asks. 

“The bride,” he smiles faintly. “And you?” he asks back. 

“Same,” she answers, her accent more pronounce. “I wasn’t going to come, ;to be honest,” she admits, trying to sound nonchalant. 

“That makes two of us,” he mutters. 

She raises a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “Why is that?” 

“I don’t know anybody,” he replies noncommittaly. 

“And yet here you are,” she smirks. Somehow he had pegged her as prude but he has to admit she looks good smirking. 

He shrugs and motions to their surroundings with a hand. “So what about you?” he turns to the woman, mirroring her expression.

She sighs, her smirk fading and expression sombering. “My ex-fiancé is Bri’s cousin,” she whispers, bitting her lip to prevent it from wobbling. 

“Oh,” he says simply for lack of a better thing to say. 

She lets out a half, breathy laugh, staring down at her wrigging hands in her lap.“I know, right? But well,” she shrugs mechanically, “I had to be here supporting my friend in one of her most important days,” she says, more to herself than Achilles. 

For an unfathomable reason, Achilles holds this woman’s- Andromache as she later introduced herself, hand all through the ceremony while she hides her sobs behind a handkerchief. 

In the end she kiss and hugs him in thanks before going to look for Brisis. He waits back for the guests to leave the church before going to find his own ride to the party. 

Admittedly, it is not a bad reception; the food was good, so are the drinks, the music was just a background noise while the dinner took place so the people could talk calmly and without straining their ears. Achilles enjoyed talking with the other people at his table so he doesn’t have any complains about that either. 

The only thing amiss here is that he is alone at a wedding.And isn’t that pathetic? I mean, there all these couples were, dancing happily and here he was, sitting and sulking with a glass of... something in his table at the corner. 

“Of all the places I expected to find you again, this wedding never really crossed my mind,” a familiar voice speaks from somewhere behind him. 

Achilles smiles a little without looking because of course. After four months of rehab and scarce meetings through the months, he has to meet Hector at a wedding. “I can only say the same,” he says. 

“What are you doing here, anyway?” he asks, coming to sit in the empty chair next to Achilles. 

Achilles shrugs and swallows a mindless sip of his unknown drink before finally replying.“I’m a friend of the bride. And what about you?” he asks, turning to look at the other man. 

Hector exhales a long breath before speaking. “The bride is my cousin,” he says simply. 

Achilles freezes with his glass mid-way to his mouth because- “So are you the son of Prime Minister Priam?” he asks. 

Hector nods but doesn’t offer any explanation. Instead he seems to realize something and narrows his eyes at him. “Are you- that fencing greek Bri dated a few years ago? Pellius’ son?” he questions back. 

Achilles shrugs and takes a sip of his gin, he finally remembers, and huffs. “Yep,” he, too, doesn’t offers further explanation. 

“Well look at us,” his companion breaks the sort of tense silence. “Sulking at a wedding. So,” he stands up and offers a hand out, would you dance with me?” he asks with that bright smile Achilles likes so much. 

Achilles contemplates his options; it’s either remain sitting here, alone or go dance with this man. There is really no question as to what he would choose. 

So he smiles back and accepts the profered hand and stands, letting Hector lead him to the dance-floor. Achilles is a few inches shorter than Hector so of course, he is the one to follow. 

But when the other man scowls at the first accords of the slow song that just started, Achilles tries hard to not visibly deflate at the thought that maybe he didn’t want to dance with him after all. 

I saw you standing there

sandy blonde hair, the way it came tumbling down

Just like a waterfall...

And just like that; with one look at Achilles the man’s expression softness and smiles a small, private smile and sways him to the slow and intimate rythm that the smooth voice and gentle melody set. 

“Sorry,” the other says, apologetic, “but I don’t like that song.”

Achilles frowns. “Why, then?” he inquires, with no need to specify the ‘what.’

Hector bites his lip, considering something. His lip looks so plump and red and Achilles feels the startling desire to replace the man’s teeth with his own, thankfully though, the man releases it before Achilles could embarras himself. “I wanted to dance with you,” he admits. 

How does it start?

And when does it end ?

Only  been here for a moment but I know I want you

But is it too soon?

To know that I’m with you...

Achilles says nothing; the just keep dancing, absorbed in each other , unaware of the stares of some people and the woman leaving the room with tears in her eyes and a broken heart. 

They don’t kiss that night but they do leave with phone numbers and a promise. 

  1. Sh sh, take my hand and hold it tight. 

Achilles has been here for four days, days filled with anguish, caffein-induced madness and countless signatures.

In these four days he’s slept a total of three hours so he’s stopped paying attention to the weird and concerned looks some nurses and other people give him from time to time. 

His mother just died.She is dead and he’s never gonna see her againso forgive him his disheveled hair and red-rimmed eyes. His hands are shaking as he twirls the last seashells necklace she made for him and he is three seconds away from passing out. He would welcome the respite of darkness at this point. 

His father is the cods’ know where doing the fuck knows what, probably blaming himself and his mother had no relatives so Achilles is alone with his grief. 

Eudorus is in Macedonia doing some research for one of his biology classes and Patroclus lives in America so he can’t call any of them. 

“You ready to clock-out?” he hears a nurse ask someone. 

He isn’t really paying attention but he thinks he hears the same nurse talk about him with someone, he can’t be sure though. Specially when he doesn’t hear the other side of the conversation. 

A hand on his shoulder nearly makes him jump out of his skin and he is ready to give an earful to whomever dared disturb him... until he meets a familiar face and then berates himself for not considering this option. 

“Hector,” he breathes it like a prayer, like the miraculous answer to his begging, and he sags back into the uncomfortable chair as if someone had just cut loose all his strings. 

The man gives him a sympathetic smile and takes him by the arm to pull him up. “Come on, you are in dire need of sleep.”

Achilles allows the man to manhandle him, dragging his feet to whereverthe other man is guiding him to withour uttering another word. 

Hector opens the door at their left that opens to a small room like the ones depicted in medical dramas in tv and Achilles thought weren’t real. Turns our they are and the cot is looking so inviting; despited looking a bit narrow and having provided shelter to an unknown number of exhausted personnel but Achilles is so exhausted that he could lay on a nail-bed and sleep for days. 

“What are we doing here?” he asks, as he watches the man locking the door and toeing his shoes off. 

The manshrugs nonchalantly. “I feel like death warmed up and you... well,” he trails off and clears his throat. “Can probably use some sleep.”

He moves to lay down on the bed and when he is comfortable pats the spot next to him and cocks an eyebrow in anticipation. Achilles smiles a little, surprised he still has the energy to do so and joins Hector on the bed. 

He throws caution to the wind (and also the bed is too narrow to do otherwise) so he snuggles into the man, resting his head on his chest and allows Hector to wrap his arms around him tightly. 

“She’s gone, Hector,” he speaks softly, into the man’s... bananas in pajamas scrubs. “She’s been gone two days and I-“ a sob chokes the rest of his words, just when he’d thought there were no tears left. 

Hector pulls him even closer, rubbing circles on his back but says nothing. He just holds him close and lets him cry without the useless comfort words other people usually say in these situations. 

“Come stop your crying it will be alright ,” the man starts sing-whispering after some time against Achilles’ head, carding his fingers through his knotted hair. And gods, his smooth voice paired with the song make Achilles sob harder. He bunches the fabric of Hector’s shirt tighter in his fist. Hector swallows and surrounds it with his own hand, managing to fit his fingers between Achilles’. “Sh, sh, just take my hand and hold it tight. I will protect you from all around you, I will be here don’t you cry...” 

Achilles’ face, already messed up with sleepiness, now has the addition of tear-tracks and snot, his throqt is raw and his eyes hurt but he still manages a small chuckle. “Thank you,” he whispers, sniffling. 

Hector huffs a little laugh. “It’s no problem,” he places a small kiss on the top of his head. “You have done the same for me,” he whispers with a little grin. 

In the six months since the wedding they have gone out (they wouldn’t call it ‘dating.’ They don’t want to lable something they aren’t ready for) they have spend time together; getting to know each other. In one occasion, when Hector’s brother ran away with the wife of a politician, Achilles was there for it all. 

It still makes his heart warm with the knowledge that Hector cares about him. 

“It still means a lot that you are spending your break here,”  with me,  goes unsaid. 

“Always,” the man breathes against his hair. 

5- What if I kissed you now?

Achilles sighs for what feels like the umpteenth time.He’s been sitting on the windowsill for the past forever; the condensation on the window making it foggy and cool against his skin.It’s been raining all day, which is rare for an autumn day, which for its part is uncannily relating with his mood. 

He’s usually a pretty level-headed, self-assured man. He doesn’t do sad, nor miserable. He knows he’s attractive, charming, well-mannered, skilled...

But today... today he’s just off. He hasn’t eaten, he hasn’t slept or showered nor answered his mobile-phone. 

He had a fight with his father, he told him that he want to ditch university and be a fencer and the man just lost it. He started yelling all sorts of things; that he’s his only surviving child therefore he should follow he steps and ended up yelling Achilles was a disappointment, by that point he was walking out and slaming the door to his father’s office. 

He hasn’t seen or talked to Hector in weeks. He tried calling once but it went straight to voicemail and the text he sent only got a one-word reply so he stopped texting the man. 

And now he is frustrated because he thought they were starting something good but now he’s not sure. 

He’s only had three serious relationships and two ended badly and the third one was with Bri and theirs was a clean and mutual breakup. So yeah. 

The night is staring at him from the outside, patiently waiting to see what will happen.H stares back challengingly, unmoving. 

When there’s a knock in the door it’s as if the universe were saying ‘yeah, you were saying?’ and he answers by staying where he is. 

The second knock is like a laugh. Achilles ignores it just the same. 

There’s no knock for a few seconds so Achilles shrugs and leans more comfortably against the window. 

However, there comes a third knock and Achilles can’t help but smile because the person is knocking Beethoven’s fifth Symphony into the wood. 

There’s only one person he knows who loves classical music to the point of being able to recognize each instrument in each musical piece and its variations. 

When he opens the door there Hector is; sheepish smile and a bag of groceries in hand. 

“Hey,” he greets. 

“Hi,” Achilles greets back. 

“I- I’m here to cook you dinner. I know I have been absent and I’m sorry,” he says, eyes remorseful. 

Achilles smiles and moves aside to let the other in and after closing the door he follows Hector to the kitchen where he is already unpacking the groceries and riffling through cabinets taking out pots, pans and other utensils. 

“What you cooking?” he asks, walking to the fridge to retrieve a peach juice and going to sit on the stool. 

“Risotto,” the other answers, shrugging. 

Achilles was surprised when he found out that Hector likes cooking and baking and that he is actually good at it. When he works on the kitchen it’s a whole body thing; he dances around and hums along to some piece that’s in his mind, all while very gracefully chopping or stirring whatever magic he is creating. 

So he can do nothing but sip mindlessly at his juice while he stares mesmerized at the beautiful man moving around as if he owned this kitchen. Achilles absolutely loves it. 

It’s scary how much he wants this to work and how much it might not work and- and- 

Sudden warm hands grab his face and pull him out of his thoughts when a voice starts to sing. “Chiquitita tell me what’s wrong? You’re enchained to your own sorrow. In your eyes there is no hope for tomorrow. How I hate to see you like this, there is no way you can deny it. I can see you’re oh so sad, so quiet..,” the man pushes Achilles’ hair back and smiles gently at him. “What is it, A? Why do you look so down?” he asks softly. 

Achilles swallows and glances to the stove. “Shouldn’t you be focusing on the food?” he tries to deviate the attention from himself. 

Hector grins impishly and shakes his head. “Ah-ah, it needs to simmer. So tell me Mister, what is it?” he quirks an eyebrow. 

Achilles sighs and lowers his head. “I had a fight with my father,” he says through his teeth. 

Silence befalls them for a moment. Achilles has to bit his lip to prevent himself from saying anything else. Hector doesn’t say anything, he just moves closer and envelopes him in a tight hug. And oh, it feels so good. 

“Can it be fixed?” he asks against Achilles’ hair. 

The shake of his head comes a little hindered by Hector’s shoulder. “Not any time soon,” he quietly replies. 

“Alright,” the other presses a quick kiss to Achilles’ temple before pulling away and moving to finish dinner. “Then we’ll enjoy this food and cheer up, yes?”

He plates the risotto and passes him a plate and cutlery before sitting himself down. But before he could dig in, he seems to remember something and he jumps up, rushing to the fridge and pulling out a bottel of rosso. He smiles gently, showing his prize sheepishly. "I know it’s your favorite," he shrugs trying to appear nonchalant. 

Achilles feels warmth expanding all through his body, he never expected Hector to remember his likes. Maybe it’s silly but it makes him happy. “Thank you but you didn’t have to do this,” he speaks quietly. 

Hector finishes pouring the wine and looks at him, frowning. “Of course I had. I’ve been busy and haven’t had the time for anything or anyone and I am sorry,” he replies, earnestly. 

Achilles bites his lips to prevent his smile from showing. Instead he grabs his wine-glass and raises it then clinks it against Hector’s. 

The wine is perfect, the food is perfect, the company is perfect. Hector chats away about his internship and exams, about his brother’s affair with the wife of a politician and how he nearly got band from Grece. 

In turn, Achilles speaks about his fencing and how he went and fought with Nestor because he let Agamemnon comment his dissertation. And by the time they get to dessert, he finally talks about his fallout with his father. 

“I miss my mother,” he whispers into his hands. “She understood; she knew me, knew who I was and never expected anything I couldn’t be,” he continues speaking muffled. 

Hector places a cup of cookie-dough ice-cream in front of him and then grabs his hands and pulled them away from his face. “Hey look, sweets,” he says into his ear. “Don’t hide your ugly face from this beauty,” he pushes the cup a little bit forward. 

Achilles bats his eyes at the creamy goodness. “Can’t say no to that,” he grins a little and grabs the spoon and digs into that deliciousness. 

Hector just sits there, staring at him with a silly smile because the weirdo only likes mint ice-cream. 

Achilles loves him.With all his weirdness. 

But he doesn’t know what the other man feels. And that’s a tiny bit stressful. 

The thing is though, he doesn’t know how to ask him about it. 

He intends to go wash the dishes but Hector stops him and shakes his head. “Let me,” he winks. “You go sit on the couch,” he motions to the living room. 

Achilles chuckles softly but goes do what he was asked.He doesn’t sit however, he paces and then stops in front of the cd’s stand and peruse his collection critically. He wants to put something to have as background noise. Maybe not to think... but he can’t decide on what to play. 

Hector comes into the room before Achilles can make up his mind.An awkward settles between them unasked for. They just stand there; staring uncomfortably at each other, neither knowing what to say for once. 

“Listen-“

“Look-“

They both start at the same time and cut themselves with a strained laugh. 

“You first.” Hector gestures with a hand. 

Achilles sighs, dragging a hand down his face. “Hector look, I-“ his voice trembles and so he cuts off. This is so unlike him, this... uncertain, this... insecure... Every time he’s wanted anything he has always gone for it. But now- but now-

“Achilles?” a whisper brings him out of his own mind. 

Hector is suddenly closer than he was a moment ago, looking worried. One of his hands trying to unclench one of Achilles’ until he finally loosens it and intertwines their fingers. 

Hector rubs circles on the back of Achilles’ hand, eyes all shinning and he is so beautiful and damnit he is worthy, he is enough for this man. He just-

“What if I kissed you now?” Hector asks, quietly. 

“What?” Achilles asks, shocked. Not sure if he heard correctly. 

Hector smiles beatifically, leaning in an inch closer. “What if-“ another inch and a squeeze of the hand. “I kissed-“ another inch and another squeeze, “you-“ lips barely a breath away, “now?” his voice is a tad lower than a whisper. 

They are too close now that Achilles can barely make out the color of Hector’s eyes but before he can put a word in, the trojan kisses him. 

Kisses. Him. 

And it is every bit what he’d expected. And so much more. 

Achilles wraps his free arm around the man’s neck to pull him even closer, as he squeezes the hand holding his. 

They separate slowly but they don’t go far. They are both smiling in awe and staring into each other’s eyes. “Well, I wasn’t expecting that,” Achilles admits, somewhat embarrassed. 

Hector lets out a breathy, short laugh and cards a gentle hand through his hair. “I’m sorry it took so long. I realized I’d never really let you know I like you despite us having gone out for a few months already,” the man explains, bitting his lower lip. 

Achilles feels himself soaring. He untwines their fingers and wraps his other arm around Hector’s neck, tangling his hand in the soft strands of hair. “I confess I have wondered-“ he says, looking down at the man’s lips. 

Hector shrugs nonchalantly. “Thought my actions spoke for themselves,” he grins, sheepish. 

Achilles laughs happily, pulling him closer. “That’s alright. I like you too and I didn’t say anything either,” he winks playfully. 

Hector laughs too and leans in to nudge his nose against Achilles’ in an eskimo kiss, eliciting a giggle from the blonde. “We know now and we can proceed as we should,” he says, breath ghosting over the other’s face. 

Achilles laughs again and propels forward and slams their lips together, harder than he intended and making their teeth clash which would probably leave some bruises maybe even bleed a little. Neith cares though. 

They can be happy together now with full disclosure of their feelings. 


End file.
